Here's another one! Man, I'm on a roll! It's too bad I can't put any of these stories in my portfolio, eh? It'd be full to the brim otherwise. Damn. Not getting into that creative writing class. Anywhooza: I don't own Harry Potter, book series or film series. Hope you like it. :)

While Hagrid was visiting Harry in the hospital wing after the attack on the Philosopher's Stone…

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… Knew yeh didn' have any… D'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood. The friendly half-giant wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, tears leaking down his face and disappearing into his beard. Harry's chest felt a little constricted, but his heart was warm. He was glad that Hagrid had been the one to come for him when Uncle Vernon had forced the family to go to the broken-down house on the sea. He couldn't picture anyone better, or friendlier, for the job.

Finally, when the knot in his throat subsided, Harry whispered, "Thanks, Hagrid. I'll miss you."

Hagrid was unable to contain himself at this and clutched Harry tighter, saying that he too would miss Harry. But, as the gamekeeper lost what little restrain he had, his grip on Harry became a bit too firm and Harry's breath gushed out in a gasp. "Hagrid… can't… breathe…" he forced out in a whisper.

Hagrid's sobs were louder than Harry's whisper, and so his distress went unnoticed. His face paled and he struggled weakly, but it was no use. He slowly turned blue and his eyes began to bulge while he gasped silently for air that was not forthcoming. Through his eyes, the world began to blur around the edges, slowly being replaced by an inescapable darkness.

"Yer too kind, Harry. Yeh got a big heart, like yer parents," Hagrid said.

Hagrid set Harry down on the bed and wiped his face with a handkerchief. It was then he noticed that Harry did not sit down, rather he flopped down ungracefully and his glasses fell to the floor, shattering. "Harry?" Hagrid asked worriedly.

Harry didn't reply, nor did his chest move. He was dead.

"HARRY!" Hagrid bellowed. "MADAM POMFREY, HARRY'S NOT BREATHIN'!"

Madam Pomfrey ran back into the main hospital room and gasped when she spotted Harry's discoloured face. Her wand immediately went to work, waving at Harry's chest and mouth, at his head and his limbs. She mumbled long phrases in Latin, constantly letting out a stream of chants. She paused for a moment, nodded, and pointed her wand at the potions' cupboard, where a clear phial flew with incredible speed toward her outstretched hand. "Help me sit him up," Pomfrey ordered Hagrid, who did as he was bid.

"It's all my fault!" he cried.

"Quiet!" Pomfrey snapped.

Hagrid could only nod at the mediwitch's strict tone, immediately quieting, though his tears flowed quicker, wetting his beard entirely. Pomfrey ignored the half-giant and tilted Harry's head back. "Drink up, Potter," she muttered while pouring the potion into his mouth. She rubbed his throat to help him swallow and then stepped back as the Potter boy's chest rose and he swallowed a breath of air. His eyes widened and he tried to move, but the matron pushed him down to lie on the bed while he breathed in gasps of air.

"Is he gonna be OK?" Hagrid asked.

Pomfrey frowned, twirled her wand in the motions of a strong diagnostic spell and paused in surprise. She pointed her wand at Harry's forehead, muttered a long string of Latin and watched as the irritated scar on Harry's head slowly closed.

Pomfrey couldn't believe it. The cursed scar that would not fully heal or vanish – no matter how many healing spells or ointments she used – was closing before her eyes and appeared to be nothing more than a normal scar. She accio-ed another potion to her hand, this one a scar reducing salve, and started applying it to her patient's forehead. The mediwitch watched in wonder as the salve sunk into the boy's skin and the famous scar became a shade lighter than before. It was working. It was working! She couldn't believe it! Whatever curse had been in that scar, whatever foul magic had remained, vanished when the boy had been dead. "It makes sense," she mumbled.

"Wha' makes sense?" Hagrid wondered.

"Hagrid, I need you to get Professor Dumbledore immediately."

"O' course!" he said, and he dutifully ran to do as told.

"What happened?" Harry asked weakly.

"You died," Madam Pomfrey said.

"But what about my scar? Didn't you say that magic and potions wouldn't affect it?"

"Yes, well, it would appear that whatever curse You-Know-Who left you with vanished once it realized that you had passed," she explained.

"Oh," he said. "Then it'll be gone forever?"

"So it would seem."

"That's good," Harry muttered. "Where did my glasses go?"

Pomfrey summoned them from the ground, repaired them with a flick of her wand, and passed them over to her young charge just as Dumbledore appeared in the room, surrounded by flamed. Fawkes, his phoenix familiar, cawed gently and disappeared once more. "What happened?" he demanded.

"It would seem that Hagrid did not taper his strength and Harry suffocated. He's well, don't worry, but it seems that his death unlocked whatever was anchoring that evil curse to his scar. It should heal up nicely so long as he applies this salve to his forehead ever night for a week. Understand, Mister Potter?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore stared at Harry from above his half-moon spectacles and nodded, looking immensely relieved. "Whatever Lord Voldemort left you with that night in Godric's Hallow will have gone. If all goes well, you will not have to face Lord Voldemort but for the end."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked worriedly. "Why do I have to face him at all? The only reason I did this year was because he was trying to steal the Stone!"

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said fondly, "You will know when you are ready, I promise you. Furthermore, I do not doubt that you entered the third floor corridor with anything but courage and the best of intentions; however, Voldemort will see only that you have purposely thwarted him once again. I ask that you endeavour to stay out of trouble, and trust your teachers to do what is right."

"But McGonagall didn't listen!" Harry shouted in defence.

Dumbledore held up his hand and smiled at the indignant boy before him, "She merely did not wish for you to worry; in fact, immediately after you told her your suspicions, she alerted the other teachers – as I was out – and, most fortunately, Professor Quirrell was unable to attend the emergency staff meeting. So you see, she did not ignore you, nor Miss Granger and Mister Weasley. She merely did not wish for you to do as you have done – that is, concern yourself with the protection of an object that attracts the attention of most dangerous foes. Fortunately for us, you were able to stop Lord Voldemort, protect the stone, and – as Professor McGonagall might have mentioned earlier in the year – live to tell the tale."

Harry's cheeks reddened and he nodded in understanding. At least Dumbledore wasn't scolding him. Which reminded him: "Madam Pomfrey, will I still be able to go to the feast tonight?"

"I should think not—!" she began.

"I think it would do the boy some good to get out of the hospital wing," Dumbledore interrupted, winking at Harry.

Madam Pomfrey sputtered, but there wasn't anything she could do to say otherwise. So, when the time came, Harry went down to the feast and sat among his friends, never mentioning his death or the imminent vanishing act his scar would pull within one week. The next day, he boarded the train to Platform 9 ¾ feeling lighter and freer than ever before.

H'OK, so someone reviewed and wrote that how Voldemort's horcrux disappears in this story doesn't make sense because of the manner in which it leaves in the book (think Avada Kedavra). It does leave that way in the book, but Harry is the Master of Death when it happens, which likely makes a BIG difference in his return to life. The bit of Voldemort's soul was NOT destroyed, as proven by the disfigured baby at the Station - disfigured because it's missing the rest of its soul, but still active, alive. It was merely dislodged, separated from Harry's. Here's my explanation, for those of you who didn't get why the horcrux was gone:

Harry died, so his soul went On, bringing the horcrux with it. At the Station, the two souls separate because they are two different beings and the realm of Death would immediately recognize this. So, when Madam Pomfrey brings Harry back, the horcrux doesn't have the ability to come back with him, since it has to wait for the rest of Voldemort's soul to pass before it can become wholly functional again. Furthermore, Harry's soul isn't weak or damaged by the Killing Curse as it was when he was a baby, so the horcrux wouldn't even have the means or the opportunity to latch on. That's it. Harry and Death are stronger. (Death is also probably pissed that Voldemort has evaded him for so long.)